


Gods, Billionaires, Assassins, and Hulks

by Geonn



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Flirting, Hero Worship, M/M, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson gets a moment with Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods, Billionaires, Assassins, and Hulks

Phil was unfazed by things that would leave other people gibbering morons. He stared down Asgard heroes and villains. He told world-class assassins they wouldn't be paid for overtime. When billionaires could buy opinions and favoritism, Phil walked through the imaginary barrier and laid down the ground rules. He assumed that was why Director Fury kept sending him to such high-level meetings. Without egotism or a bloated sense of self, Phil managed to stand on equal ground with gods, celebrities and giant monsters. Where others were cowed, Phil didn't back down.

He was embarrassed by his reaction to Captain America. Steve. He should call him Steve, or Captain Rogers. He was fortunate that, out of everyone they recruited, Rogers was the most likely to come along without any fuss. Phil's wrangling wasn't as necessary as it would be with Stark or Banner. He was glad, because he knew he would have failed if he'd been forced to confront Rogers. If he'd said no, Phil would have walked away.

Rogers was a legend and a hero. Phil remembered reading the literature when he was a kid. Funny pages and cartoon shows, museum displays that showed Cap's original uniform with pictures of him and his Howlin' Commandos. Seeing him in person was like meeting a living legend, and not like a celebrity legend or a fake god legend. Steve Rogers was the real deal.

He stood in front of his locker and shuffled through the cards, feeling like a little kid again as he looked at their dynamic artwork. Sure, some of the other SHIELD agents laughed at him. They called him nostalgic for something that hadn't really existed, for a time he'd never really known. He didn't care. Just because he didn't live through those years didn't mean he had to forget they existed. Patriotism and honor were real things back then. A man in a stars-and-stripes suit had risked his life to fight evil. That was worth honoring.

They were on their way to Europe to follow up on a Loki sighting, and they had a few rare minutes of free time. Stark was showing Banner the Iron Man suit. Maria said that she'd seen Rogers go into the lockers, so Phil took the opportunity to visit his and retrieve his cards. "I'm about to ask someone who went after Hitler and the Red Skull to sign my trading cards." He laughed at himself and shook his head as he went in search of the soldier. 

The locker area was empty, and he started to despair he'd missed him. He was listing the other places he may have gone when he heard the shower running and took a quick detour. He was just going to make sure it was Rogers and then back off until he was unoccupied. The tile in the shower area was beaded with condensation; Rogers apparently liked his showers hot. He was standing in the middle stall, his back to the room, one hand flattened against the tile in front of him. Water coursed over his head, turning his blonde hair darker brown. Thick streams rolled over his shoulders and down his spine, evidence of shampoo and soap clinging to the hard lines of his muscles.

Phil was so entranced by the sight of Rogers' musculature that it took him a moment to realize his right arm was in front of him, moving in a...

_Oh, fuck._

He turned, and the heel of his shoe squeaked on the tile. Rogers looked over his shoulder and his arm became still. Phil stayed where he was to avoid looking like he was trying to run away and held his ground as Rogers pushed his lank hair out of his face. His eyes were narrowed due to the water splashing against his temple.

"Coulson?"

"Uh, yes. Uh, Phil." He cleared his throat. "I was just going to... I didn't want to disturb you. I--"

"The cards?"

He was humiliated. "Yeah. It can wait."

Rogers smiled. "I know how missions like this can get. Trust me, might as well get it over with. Let me just finish up...?"

"O-of course. Take your time."

Rogers turned back to the wall and began stroking again. Phil stared at his back again, and he couldn't deny that he was turned on. He held the cards with both hands, unconsciously rubbing his thumb over the cartoon-ish version of the man currently masturbating in front of him. He reached to adjust his tie, looked around, and cleared his throat.

"You just going to stand there, Phil?"

He wasn't sure what that meant. Was he suggesting Phil leave? Or... what? Phil accessed that part of his brain that had quieted Tony Stark's pouting and withstood Thor's rage, and steeled himself. He slipped his cards into his suit jacket and unzipped his fly. Rogers glanced back and Phil realized the man had a 1940s mentality. When it came to homosexuality--

"Little stress relief before we fight the good fight."

Phil smiled, relieved. "My thoughts exactly, Captain Rogers."

"Steve."

Phil was already hard, and he spit into his palm as he rested his shoulders against the doorway. Many of his first male fantasies involved the man standing in front of him in some way or another. He often fantasized about Rogers and James Barnes, wondering what they did when they had to bivouac overnight. He had pictured canvas tents stretched between trees, rain pocking against the material as they pressed against each other in the darkness, Barnes burying his face in the pillow as Rogers fucked him.

He stroked faster, eyes half-lidded so he could keep his fantasy in sight. Rogers was bucking his hips slightly, his ass clenching and relaxing. Phil knew he could cross the room, step under the spray in his suit and shoes, and wrap his arms around him. He pictured Rogers turning his head, their lips meeting in an impossible kiss as those magnificent cheeks pressed back against his cock. Rogers would be lubed by the shower, and Phil's cock head was slick with pre-come, and he knew... he knew he could push into him so easily.

Phil came and, a moment later, he heard Rogers' huffing and grunting quietly. He watched the man's frame shudder, his feet moving slightly further apart, and watched the come trickle down the wall in front of him. Phil looked down and saw his own ejaculation had left a Jackson Pollack painting on the floor in front of him. Rogers turned, rubbed the back of his neck, and rocked his hips forward to let the water wash off his cock before he turned off the faucet. 

Phil went to the sink and wet a paper towel, shaking with... what? Relief? Joy?... at what he'd just done. He washed his hands, then wrapped the towel around his cock. When he looked up, Rogers was standing behind him. Wet, glistening... He looked down and saw Rogers' cock, still plump after his orgasm. Bless the Super Soldier program. He wasn't sure what Rogers was doing. He knew what he _wanted_ him to be doing; it would be a hell of a way to get over the cellist. Unfortunately, there wasn't time for that. He swallowed hard and tucked his penis back into his pants and zipped up.

"Careful. There's a... on the floor, there's..."

"I saw."

Phil kept eye contact on the reflection of the man; it seemed easier to process. What was he waiting for? Why was he just standing there, dripping? Did he... was he going to...?

"The cards?"

Shit. Of course. He looked at his hands. He didn't want to risk damage by touching the cards with wet fingers. Of course having them stained by Steve Rogers' come... 

He started to say something, but then his earpiece went off and Maria Hill's voice distracted him. "Agent Coulson."

"Yes." He hoped his voice was steady.

"The plane to intercept Loki has been prepped. Have you found Captain Rogers? He should be getting suited up if he's not already."

"Right. I'll tell him." He disconnected and turned, facing Rogers again. His eyes drifted below the belt of their own volition, but Rogers didn't seem to particularly mind. "We're getting close to the location. You should probably start getting ready."

"Another time, then. For the cards?"

"Yes. Another time." Phil wasn't entirely sure he was only talking about the cards, but Rogers just nodded and walked away. Phil watched him go and turned back to the sink. He splashed his face with water, rested his elbows on the sink, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was smiling. He cupped the back of his neck and let the water trickle down under his collar. He heard Rogers leave and went back to his locker, returning the cards to their protective plastic sheath.

Another time. It was a date. 

He shut the locker and went to do what he could to help the assorted superhumans on board the ship save the world.


End file.
